


Midwinter Gifts

by vix_spes



Series: Christmas Gift!Fics 2014 [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Christmas, Family, Gen, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Rangers of Ithilien were out in the wilds with no hope of being in Minas Tirith for Midwinter … that doesn’t mean they have to miss out on the celebrations completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midwinter Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lovely aome on LJ

Faramir shivered and did his best to wrap his cloak around him a bit better in an attempt to keep out the chill. He and the Rangers had been out in the wilds for weeks and all of them were starting to flag a little. It didn’t help that they were getting ever closer to the Midwinter Festival, less than two days in fact, and there was very little sign of them being in Minas Tirith for it. Their cloaks were all becoming shabby and no longer keeping the cold out too well, the weather had taken a turn for the worst with the snow starting to fall steadily to pile high on the ground and their rations were running dangerously low. All of those elements combined were starting to affect morale amongst the company. Faramir’s company was currently based down in Emyn Arnen rather than their normal base of Henneth Annun in Northern Ithilien. If they had been at Henneth Annun they would have fared better due to the cave formations but they had been kept busy down on the Harad Road keeping it clear of Haradrim.

Considering that he had never been as enamoured with warfare as Boromir, Faramir enjoyed his work with the Rangers but he couldn’t deny that he missed Minas Tirith and its vast libraries. What he missed most was his brother though. Faramir absolutely adored his older brother and the feelings were more than returned. After all, it had been Boromir who had all but raised Faramir after Finduilas’ death. Unfortunately, with Boromir in charge of the Gondorian army and Faramir leading the Rangers of Ithilien, they got to see each other far less often than they would like. It had been some three months since they had last seen each other and it would probably be another month at the very least before they saw each other again.

The sound of cracking branches had them all jumping to their feet and scrabbling for weapons. Faramir exchanged a worried look with Mablung, his experienced second. Anborn and Damrod, both of them experienced Rangers, were on look-out duty and if something had got past them then it wasn’t good news. Whatever Faramir had been expecting, it wasn’t for the shapes moving towards them through the snow to materialise into the familiar form of his brother and several members of his most trusted guard.

“Boromir?”

“Hello Fara mine.”

Faramir was positive that his mouth was hanging open unattractively but then Boromir was catching him up in an embrace that Faramir had always associated with being home. Boromir had always seemed larger than life and, even though Faramir had shot up like a weed during his teenage years, Boromir’s bear-hugs always just seemed to envelope him in warmth and familiarity. This time it was no different and, not caring that he was surrounded by not only his men but Boromir’s as well, he wrapped his arms tightly around his older sibling and buried his face in the fur of Boromir’s cloak.

When he looked up, he could see that Boromir had come straight from Minas Tirith to where the Rangers were currently based, clearly going off the reports that Faramir had been faithfully sending back. He knew that he should be protesting that Boromir and his soldiers were forgoing their own enjoyment of the Midwinter Festival but looking around at his men, all of them now wearing new, thicker cloaks and tearing into the food that had been brought. Even as Faramir watched, a new fur-trimmed cloak was being tossed around his shoulders and he smiled at Boromir, wrapping an arm around Boromir’s waist.

“Happy Midwinter Boro.”

“Happy Midwinter to you as well, little one.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you prefer to comment on LJ, you can do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/176068.html)


End file.
